After Dusk
by Sharessa
Summary: With the Archdemon dead the dust of the Blight settles, and new enemies begin to crawl the streets as the darkness of the day draws in. New story based around Alistair and Sharessa, my Warden. Rated M until I am know how strong I'm making the content!


Blue eyes watched him from the corner of the room as he held court over those he called his subjects, making it difficult for him to concentrate. Every time she looked at him it was like he could feel her fingers tracing down his spine, sending chills up the back of his neck. He tried to steal a glance of her, and had to tear his eyes away before she rendered him speechless.

Sharessa. He could still see the day she had first stood before him, just a raw recruit that Duncan had picked up along the road, but also the daughter of one of the most important families in Ferelden. She had been sent to him so that her and two others could proceed with their Joining, and over the years they had shared laughter and joy, sorrow and hurt, and the feeling of losing those that meant the most to them. For her it had been that traitor, Howe, who had torn her parents away from her in a flurry of steel and fire. An experience mirrored in him, when Duncan was lost to him, overwhelmed in a swarm of darkspawn.

After Ostagar they had been alone, the last two Grey Wardens with so much to achieve, and no idea where to start. Yet she had supported him, raised him higher than he could imagine, and had seen vengeance done. She had fought for him at the Landsmeet as his champion, in single combat against the man who been the sole cause of Duncan's death. Without a word she had known what he wanted, and with nothing but a swift nod passing between them she had silenced him once and for all, just as she had silenced Howe.

And yet despite all they had been through she was still kind, and gentle. She thought nothing of going out of her way to help those in need when many would have just taken an easier option, and was fiercely protective of those less able to defend themselves. She had been his first, and years on she still fascinated him. He could not get enough of her.

Thinking about past events made him realise just how long ago it all felt, like it had been decades since they had united Ferelden, overthrown Logain and defeated the blight. She had slain the Archdemon herself, and he had felt the panic rise in the back of his throat as she plunged her sword into the stricken Old God, sure that she would be ripped away from him. Riordan had told them, the Grey Warden who killed the Archdemon would be destroyed, yet they were still here. Of everything that had happened since Ostagar, the one thing that still surprised him the most was the fact that he had something to thank Morrigan for.

But now here he stood, just six months after the death of the Archdemon, tall and proud, clad in the golden armour of the King who came before him, and addressing those who should by all odds have been swept away by the Blight. And behind him she sat next to his throne, his wife, his queen, the woman who had always been there, and the woman who had saved him over and over again. From Logain, from the darkspawn, and from himself.

Golden armour caught the light as he gestured emphatically to his audience and she found herself staring again. He was every inch the King as he stood and addressed his people, and she felt prickles at the base of her spine as she watched him. A quick glance in her direction made her breath catch in her throat and she felt like tearing her eyes away, embarrassed that he had caught her looking at him again. A slight smile played on his lips as he looked at her, and the strong voice faltered only slightly as he turned more attention to her than he should have. And then it was gone, his attention back on those before him, leaving her feeling lost.

Alistair. She had thought she had known his background, until he had revealed the identity of his royal father to her. He was King Cailan's half brother, an ex-templar after being sent to the Chantry to be raised, and a junior member of the Grey Wardens. She had been sent to find him so that she could prepare for her Joining, before she became a Grey Warden, and when the deaths of her parents were fresh in her mind. She remembered the very first thing he had said to her, and the urge to laugh at his wry comment that she had thought was lost the moment that she left Highever with Duncan, saying goodbye to her parents and leaving them to the slaughter. She remembered waking up from terrifying dreams after her joining, her eyes locking with his when they flew open in fear, the glow of the fire reflected in his brown eyes, his kind words, and the overwhelming feeling of home.

It had been then, she decided, when she had been at her most vulnerable, that he had wound his way into her very existence, and become the one thing that she could not live without, the thing she would walk through fire, and slay a thousand darkspawn for. The man that she had sent into another woman's arms to secure both of their lives and their future together.

He was also the man that had seen vengeance done. He had been there when she ran Howe through with a sword, and had spat on his corpse, and he had been there that night when she had cried in his arms, finally grieving for the family she had lost. He had understood, she knew, having lost Duncan so shortly after she lost her own parents. Duncan may not have been of Alistair's blood, but the ties were there as strong as hers had been.

The events leading up to the battle at Ostagar had broken so many hearts, and had left them alone, the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, with the impossible task of raising an army to defeat the Blight. Yet they had persevered, and succeeded. She remembered the sheer force that had ripped through her when she had slain the Archdemon, the split second of not knowing whether she was going to live or die, and the overwhelming relief of feeling of his arms around her as he picked her up when the deed was done.

And now he was her husband, her King, and this latest in a long line of official appearances since their marriage was starting to grate on her nerves. She fixed her eyes on him and smiled wickedly as he glanced at her once again. All it took was one split second for a wealth of silent words to pass between them, and minutes later her husband bade his farewell to his subjects before sweeping her from her place beside his throne, and escorting her away from the hall into their chambers, where she could forget everything for a time.

Such moments had to be sought and appreciated whenever they could, because in Ferelden there was always something brewing that would take them away from you.


End file.
